


The Steadfast Soldier and the Grumpy Bear

by golden_bastet



Category: The Professionals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5501867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_bastet/pseuds/golden_bastet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Havoc and intrigue in the nursery...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Steadfast Soldier and the Grumpy Bear

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2015 10th Anniversary Discovered in an LJ Challenge: _Discovered in the Holly and the Ivy_.
> 
> Would like to thank Solosundance for her beta, greatly appreciated as always.
> 
> And yeah - don't own them, only borrowing for a bit. ;-)

Once upon a time there was a tin soldier, in a cardboard box made just for him. The tin soldier was brave, and the tin soldier was good – mostly; and he was tall, dark, and engagingly modest in his splendid red and blue uniform. He stood at attention with his bayonet over his shoulder, guarding his surroundings. He was good at what he did and careful of how he looked when he did it, and he knew it.

The first time he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a big, colorful, decorated tree; and the first thing he heard was the squeal of, "a tin soldier!" Small hands lifted him up, and a small boy's face loomed into view. "I want to play with him now!"

'Good,' the solider thought. 'Someone who will appreciate me.'

The small boy whirled the tin soldier through the air in joy. 

Now this soldier was special, although the little boy might not have known it. He was the last of his lot; the craftsman who had brought him to life had been running low on black paint; so had saved the black paint for his shoes and hat, and used cornflower blue to paint his eyes. So the tin soldier was special among all tin soldiers.

The small boy played with the tin soldier for some time, taking him on many an adventure. Finally, a faint cry of, "Come to supper, Robert; you can play with the toys afterwards" rang out. He ignored it at first, playing out one last adventure with the tin soldier; but then it repeated, so he sorrowfully placed the tin soldier on the table with other toys, turned to the door, and slipped out, closing it behind him.

The tin soldier glanced around the table. There was the Christmas tree, beribboned and tinseled, and gaily decorated from the base to the very top. Underneath were a child's gifts: a little car with rubber tyres and a working steering wheel; and a carved wooden horse made to fit in the palms of two small hands; and a springy rubber bouncing ball. Towards the back of the collection sat a scroungy Paddington bear, with curly hair covered by a floppy felt hat a little the worse for wear, and a beat-up suitcase at his side. The bear looked as though he would bite anyone who came too close.

'Well, _he_ looks a sight,' thought the tin soldier. 'Wonder what his story is.'

Just then, from far away, amid laughter and cheers, the squeak of chairs across a wooden floor and the groan of hinges of an opening door, singing wafted up from the downstairs. He had to strain to hear it, but it was clearly there.

> _The holly bears a prickle_  
>  _As sharp as any thorn;_  
>  _And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ_  
>  _On Christmas day in the morn._  
> 

The tin soldier thought it was wonderful background music for the scene, and a wonderful nursery to be in, even including the gruff bear.

#

Night came, and the household went to bed. This was the time that the toys came to life: the wooden horse galumphed from side to side of the table; the ball bounced and bounced and bounced; and the car careened around, hitting all sorts of things (well, he was a bad driver after all). But the bear stayed towards the back, avoiding everyone. 

The tin soldier made his way over. "So, then, and who are you?" Now that he was closer, he could tell there was something about the bear – the blue-green eyes, maybe, or the way he leaned against the box – that was both somewhat challenging and somewhat fascinating. 

"'M Paddington Bear – what does it look like?" The bear clutched his suitcase all the harder.

"Well, Pa-ding-ton-bear, it looks like you're back here while the party is over there. Why not join it?"

And then the clock struck twelve, and the telescope swung around on its axis, and a metal box sprang open and a Jack-in-the-Box popped out.

The Jack-in-the-Box was sandy-haired, an older gentleman; he wore reading glasses and dressed in tweeds, and had a commanding air about him.

"A little stuffy for a Jack-in-the-Box," the tin soldier muttered. Paddington Bear snorted.

"Soldier, Bear - there you are!” the Jack-in-the-Box exclaimed. “Have an obbo for you.”

“Us?” said the soldier.

“Us?” said the bear.

“Yes, the two of you. No time to waste. There's a bogle lurking about this house, looking to cause mischief and mayhem. He's already shoved two paper dolls into the fireplace; went up like matches. I need you to find him, and bring him to justice."

"What in the world is a bogle? And search for it? Don't know what one even looks like," grumbled the bear.

"Think he means boggart, bugbear, bogeyman. But why us, Jack-in-the-Box?" asked the tin soldier.

"You're a soldier. Where's your sense of duty, man? You're sworn to protect the land! And you, you're a... bear, which will do. Bears have many good attributes, after all."

"Still not sure what we're supposed to be looking for – sir," said the tin soldier, who was a soldier and used to authority after all.

"A bogle. Round face, inky hair, inky mustache. You'll know him when you see him. On your bikes, now!"

And the Jack-in-the-Box went back into his box.

The soldier and the bear briefly looked at each other, then left to find the bogle.

"How will we know when we've found this bogle thing? And why again am I doing this?" asked the bear.

"Duty calls, old son. Look, we'll find him, I'll poke him a bit with my bayonet, we'll bring him back, and then we'll be done. Maybe we'll get a tea party over at the doll's house out of this, have some swiss roll and some company."

The bear looked askance at the soldier. 

"Okay, let's just get this over with, then," the soldier said crisply.

They moved across the table to ask the toys if they'd seen the bogle. 

"Not I!" said the bouncing ball.

"Not I!" said the wooden horse, who was now actively avoiding the ricocheting car.

"Not us!" said the box of checkers.

"Well, if I told you, might be worth my life, you know," said the stuffed fox doll, who was attempting to slink away.

"Eh – what's that?" said the bear (or Plad, as the soldier had started to think of him). "Told us what? Don't play with us, Fox."

"Bogles are notorious for their wicked deeds. Be careful; he might be coming for you as well."

"I don't even know what a bogle *is*," the bear pointed out, once again. "Not sure how something can come for me when it may not even exist."

"Oh, the bogle exists, all right," the fox repeated. "Probably on the other side of the Christmas tree. But you didn't hear that from me." And with that, the fox slunk away. 

"Doing anything tonight?" the soldier enquired.

"Who, me? Was planning to stay at home and wash my hair," the bear replied. “But I hear the other side of the Christmas tree is wonderful this time of the year." 

"Lead on, Macduff," the tin soldier gestured, and they set forth. 

They circled the Christmas tree, and came upon the unopened boxes of gifts waiting for late relatives.

"This will take all night! We'll never find the bogle this way," said the bear.

"Why don't we split up? You go to the left, I'll take the right," suggested the soldier. 

“Not just a pretty face, are you,” said the bear.

They split up in their separate directions, to look for the bogle.

The bear threaded his way among the various boxes, until he reached what appeared to be a dead end. And in back, mingled amongst the shadows, one shadow seemed to be alive. 

"Are you the bogle?" asked the bear.

"Who's asking, and why?" emanated from the shadows.

"I am; I'm Paddington Bear, and I've come to find out what a bogle is."

"Well, aren't you the curious one. Though I prefer Aloysius." But the bogle seemed pleased that someone would want to know about him.

"So who are you, bogle – er, Aloysius, and what do you do?"

"I live in the nursery, watching the toys come and go. I make sure to keep them all in line, make sure there are no imbalances in luck or favor amongst the toys."

"Is that what they're calling it now?" the tin soldier had circled around, and made it over to where the bear was peering into the shadows. 

"Who are you?" said the bogle.

"I should ask you that," said the tin solider. "But I am the tin soldier, and we've been sent to collect you."

"By whom?" said the bogle, dangerously.

"Never you mind," said the bear. "Just tell us – what imbalances are there amongst the toys? I always thought toys were toys."

"Not at all," answered the bogle, now in his element. "Some toys are kind and unselfish, have a good head on their shoulders; and others are louts, and want to be the center of everything." The bogle looked at the soldier as he said that.

"Well, but that makes no sense,” said the soldier. “The child determines what toy they play with on a given day; it's not the toy's fault if its left on the shelf to rot."

The tin soldier noticed two things: first, the bogle gave him a crisp look, and second, the bear stiffened his back.

"Not all the time," the bogle said tensely. 

"Perhaps," the bear broke in, slowly, "perhaps, sometimes the child ignores some toys, plays with them then leaves them when the next toy comes along."

"I find that hard to believe. If a child loves a toy, he loves it, period." Perhaps the soldier wasn't as experienced as he thought he was.

"Well, then, and you can just turn around and go back to where you came from, soldier,” said the bogle. “Since everything is so perfect in your world."

"Here, now, you're meant to come with us -"

"Leave it," the bear shook his head. "Not right now."

"But -"

"Leave it for now," the bear emphasized in a lowered tone, then turned back to the bogle. "And thank you, Aloysius Bogle; we appreciate the information."

"You're welcome, bear. And anytime you'd like to come back, visit a while; please do. As for you, tin soldier – you should leave well enough alone. While you're at it, leave the bear alone, too."

"But, I -" sputtered the soldier. 

"You just watch your back, soldier." The bogle was now openly hostile.

The bear grabbed the soldier by the mitt and pulled him away. 

"What was that about?" the tin soldier said, after they were out of the bogle's hearing. "We're supposed to bring him in, hand him over to the Jack-in-the-Box! And you've just given him the chance to walk off and never be seen again."

"All you were doing was making the bogle angry. And from Jack-in-the-Box's description, an angry bogle is a dangerous bogle. No, we have to do this differently if we want to catch him and turn him over."

"Not just a fuzzy face, are you? The bogle was right; you do have a head on your shoulders." The tin soldier sounded fond of his new friend, and quickly ran a mitt across the curly hair.

"Well, harrumpf," harrumpfed the bear, "we still have to figure out how to bring him in. There's still work to be done, soldier. Though if you've made him angry – which you just did – you may have just created an opening for us to catch him."

They backtracked to the other side of the table, and reassumed their spots, as it would soon be dawn and a new day would begin.

#

The next day dawned, bright and clear, and the toys were all back in their positions. The small boy came bursting into the nursery, solemnly declaring, "Now I shall arrange all the toys!" And the car with its rubber wheels was placed under the chair, which acted as a garage; the rubber ball set as its lone occupant, ready for a winter's drive. The wooden horse ran through the pasture underneath the table, while the stuffed fox skulked around the forest which edged it. And the soldier was placed on guard by the window, cracked open to admit a bit of fresh air, while the bear still sat unnoticed upon the table.

"Burr, it's cold over here," said the tin soldier. "Colder than the time I served in -"

"At least you have a chance to see how cold it is," interrupted the bear. "Nothing's changed over here in days, sunshine."

"The small boy is a child, though, and children can be unthinking."

"Don't need your pity, soldier," said the bear, annoyed.

"Just stating a fact, bear, one that I'm sure you're aware of," replied the soldier. "why, I'm sure that, given half a chance, he'd come by and pick you up -"

The soldier stopped short; he though he'd seen the bogle slide by along the skirting board. Perhaps he had, or perhaps he had been mistaken; but just then, a gust of wind came up, and blew him over - _just_ enough that he tottered over and rolled out of the window and to the pavement below.

#

It was a very, very long fall. 

The soldier found himself upside down behind a bush, his bayonet stuck into the paving stones and with a very odd, upside-down view of the world before him. Far above, he could hear a child's cry: "the toy soldier! He's fallen!" He wondered what would come next.

Strangely, the outdoors didn't seem as cold as he'd thought it would, although it was cold enough. He could feel the cold, being tin, but it didn't hurt as much as it might. 

Presently, he heard the opening of a door and the running of feet. "He must've fallen here somewhere. Oh, we have to find the toy soldier!"

"We will, we will, Robert," soothed an older voice. "He can't have gone far; we'll find him soon enough."

The soldier was facing the wall of the house, so couldn't see who was coming. But while he could call for help, that would not be suitable. A soldier had a certain level of dignity to uphold while in uniform, after all. 

The feet had been coming closer, but now they were wandering off – and they had not found him. Perhaps they would not, and he would never be found. He wondered what would happen with the bogle, and the bear.

Just then, there was a noise from above, and something came sailing to land by him. "Stupid berk, told you not to give the bogle aggro."

It was the bear! "What are you doing here, Plad?"

"Missed your grinning mug. Why'do you think?"

"Look! The soldier! There's the soldier!" A small hand wrapped around the soldier's middle, disengaged his bayonet from the ground, and lifted him into an upright position. The soldier felt his dignity returning. 

"Yes, the bear fell as well, and led him to us, dear. What a good bear to do that."

"Yes, he is a good bear. A very, very good bear." And the small boy picked up the bear and gave him a squeeze.

The bear found himself slightly flustered. 

"Let's take them inside, as it's about to rain. We don't want them to get wet, now do we? Come now." And the bear and the tin soldier were carried inside and carefully placed back on the nursery table. The window was then firmly shut.

There was a low command from the Jack-in-the-Box. "Soldier, Bear: report."

"Well, besides falling two stories, nearly getting left outside to get rained on and rusty, and almost completely losing all sense of dignity, nothing to report, sir," said the soldier, the smallest bit sarcastically. 

"Why haven't you brought the bogle in yet? He's out wreaking havoc amongst the toys!"

"Well, sir, he is dangerous, and he almost got us killed," pointed out the bear.

"You two are the fittest toys on this table, the best-suited pair. I came to you for a reason; and I'm sure you'll find a way to solve this problem. Well, no time to waste – go and find the bogle, then!" 

And they were left to get on with it. 

"Still not sure why we're doing this," grumbled the bear. "When did we become coppers?"

"You came after me, didn't you?" asked the soldier, changing the subject. "Why?"

"Well, couldn't just leave you out there to rust, could I?" evaded the bear. "Who would go after the bogle with me, then? The ball's too unstable."

"And the car is reckless," noted the soldier.

"And the horse, directionless," continued the bear.

"So I guess it would be us, then," concluded the soldier. 

"Yes, indeed," agreed the bear.

#

The next day bloomed large and bright, the sunbeams reaching through the window and across the table to wrap themselves around the tin soldier and the bear, in their respective places. The tin soldier, who had stayed up all night thinking about everything, looked across at the bear, who looked to be leaning up against a box in a semi-sprawl. Strangely, the soldier felt at ease in a way he could not remember ever feeling before. 

The relaxed features stirred and the eyelids fluttered a bit; and then the gruff look formed across the face and the blue-green eyes opened. "Looking at something, soldier?"

"Good morning, bear. Get your beauty sleep in, then?"

"Had a good kip, if that's what you're asking. What's your excuse?"

"Don't need any sleep; on sentry duty, anyway. And can't sleep now; we've got to be off to work on that little problem that came up yesterday."

"Ah, yes, our friend." The bear frowned outright. "Not sure I like how he operates; a bit on the sneaky side, that one."

"Well, we must figure out how to cease his operations, before he strikes again." And they went off in search of the bogle before he could do further harm.

"Are bogles daytime creatures?" asked the bear.

"Dunno. Why do you ask?" replied the soldier. 

"Would like to see if we can scare him up during the day, or if he's exclusively after dark." The bear was thoughtful.

"Perhaps the Jack-in-the-Box would know that; he seems to know a lot," said the soldier. "Shall we go visit him in his office?'

"Why don't we do just that," agreed the bear; and they made their way across the table.

"Perhaps the Jack-in-the-Box is a day tripper; looks like no one is at home," said the bear when they'd got to the metal box.

"Naw, think he's in there; doubt he gets much sleep at all," replied the soldier. "Not the type, now is he?"

"Well, let's see if anyone is at home," said the bear, and he knocked on the metal box. There was a bit of rumbling, and the lid popped open.

"So, gentlemen; any luck?" asked the Jack-in-the-Box, jumping out but still very business-like.

"Well, nothing after nearly getting killed, but I'd call that good luck, myself." The soldier looked slightly animated as he relayed this information.

"Any news for us? The bogle is next to impossible to locate," pressed the bear.

"Aye, laddie – not sure exactly where, but he's near and planning more mayhem. It is imperative that you find him and bring him to justice."

"Are we the only toys pursuing this character?" the tin soldier wanted to know.

"I needed the best, I came to the best. You – and you, Mr. Bear – are the only toys to have even had a conversation with the bogle – well, at least and have lived to tell of it." The Jack-in-the-Box was insistent. "You are on the right track; we just need to bring this sorry tale to a definite conclusion. So back on your bikes, and let me know when there's been progress to report." The Jack-in-the-Box folded himself back into his metal box and closed the lid.

"Feeling a bit like we've been dismissed," the bear observed.

"Can't disagree with that, sunshine – though if he's right, and no one else has seemed to have had a discussion with the bogle, that may be something in our favor. Because while the bogle wasn't happy with me, he definitely found no fault in speaking with you. There is, however, one thing that I think even the Jack-in-the-Box has overlooked: the one toy that we spoke to -"

"The fox," finished the bear. "He seems to have spoken to our friend with no adverse repercussions. I'd say it's time to pay him another visit."

"I'd say you're right," agreed the tin soldier.

#

"So, you're back," the fox looked at them from the corner of his eyes. "The both of you."

"Yes," said the bear, "and we have a few more questions. There were a couple of things we didn't get to chat about earlier. Didn't want you to think we had neglected you."

"Yeah, and what do you want?" The fox sounded belligerent. 

"Just wondering," the solider began, "about the bogle. You seem to get along well with him – or at least know something more about him than most in the nursery. Are you two longstanding friends?"

"Longstanding friends?" The fox snorted. "What does this look like – an episode of EastEnders? No, I keep my eyes and ears open, and keep myself out of the line of trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" the bear pushed a bit. 

"The kind that can get you killed. You know about the paper dolls and the 'accident' about a week back?" The bear nodded; the soldier, however, just listened, as this predated him. "Everyone referred to that as an accident, one of the children being extremely careless. But the night before I saw the paper dolls talking to the bogle, telling him he was a disgrace to the nursery and they would never trust him with anything. And then the next day they were ash."

"Well, accidents do happen," pointed out the soldier. 

"Not when the subject was pushed," replied the fox.

"What do you mean, pushed?"

"What do you think I mean? The paper dolls were convinced to go to the edge of the table, to look over the side – and then were given the old heave-ho so they fell off and into the fire."

"But why? I mean, why would the bogle push them over, when he could just have an argument, get the best of them then or another day, do a number of other things that are a bit less final than pushing them into the fire?" The tin soldier wanted to cover all bases.

"You've met the bogle," replied the fox. "You've seen what he's like. Does this sound so out of character for him?" 

"You may have a point,” said the bear, “but your discussions with the bogle seem to have not been a problem. So what's your secret?"

"Could ask you the same thing, bear. You've spoken to him, but it's your partner here that the bogle gives the evil eye. Why do you suppose that is?'

“Because the bogle stabbed himself with a toy saber as a child and was traumatised for life. How the hell would I know?” said the bear. “And how does this get us to stopping him before he kills again?"

"Think about it bear: the bogle doesn't like most, but he likes you. How does that add up to your answer?" The fox stood and made as if to move off.

"That's all you have to say, fox?" said the soldier.

"Yes – you have the answer, or at least the key, as long as you're willing to see it and use it." And the fox rose and moved off.

"Wait a minute fox, not done with you yet -" But the soldier placed a mitt on the bear's wrist, to stop the other creature from moving off. 

"Leave it, bear."

"What – you're siding with him, now? Aren't we supposed to be working on stopping the bogle, not letting the leads get away?" The bear was sore, no doubt about it. 

"Yes, of course, bear; no one has forgotten their duty, especially us. But think about what the fox said. The bogle likes you, or at least gets along with you. And to catch him, we'll have to get to him. Since he likes you, you're the key to getting to him. Not the fox; the fox doesn't have any advantage that you don't."

The soldier seemed proud of himself for figuring that out.

#

The bear and the soldier stood together on the table. 

“Let's split up; this might go faster if we cover more ground,” said the soldier. 

“Dunno, soldier; the bogle could be anywhere, and you need keeping an eye on sometimes,” replied the bear. 

“Well, let's give it about ten minutes, see what we see; then we can meet back here,” reasoned the soldier. “At the first sign of trouble, don't confront the bogle; just keep an eye on where he might be going.”

This sounded reasonable to the bear, so he agreed. And the soldier went to the left, and the bear went to the right. 

The bear had only gotten a few steps, just out of sight of the soldier, when he heard a “pssst.” The bogle oozed up next to him. 

“So, bear, the soldier's left you and gone off to greener pastures?'

“Not at all. He's just stepped away, and will be back very soon.”

“I wouldn't bet on it, bear. That soldier seems like a bad sort to me.”

“You said that earlier,” pointed out the bear. “What makes you think he's a bad sort?”

“Oh, I know about his type. How do you think I became a bogle? I was a toy, once, just as you are – a big, floppy clown. The child loved me, played with me. Then one day, a new toy showed up, all flash and glam, just like the soldier. And the child fell for it, dropped me, and went over to the other toy. Never picked me up again. And eventually I rotted away into what you see now before you.” The bogle gestured down his length. “Saw that happening to you, except you saved the soldier and made the child notice you.”

“Well, he did not notice for very long; and it wouldn't have been nice to let the soldier rot, now would it have been?”

“Wouldn't have been any more than he deserved, I say.” The bogle was adamant. “You really shouldn't waste any time on him.”

“I dunno,” said the bear, “he's got his entertaining side.”

“No, I think you should stay away from him,” said the bogle, and gazed up over the bear's head, a look of concentration on his face.

The bear looked up as well, to see what had the bogle's attention.

An ornament came crashing down from the tree, to hit him on the head.

“it's for your own good, bear,” said the bogle.

#

The soldier doubled back, then came around to the front, in search of the bogle. He was by the edge of the table, the fire roaring down below, throwing shadows across the room.

The bogle appeared, standing between the soldier and the safety of the middle of the table.

“So you came, soldier?” The bogle seemed calmed and in control.

“Where is the bear?” the soldier answered.

“Told you to leave him alone. No, he's tucked away in the Land of Nod, all safe and sound. But you should have listened to me. Now it's too late.”

The tin soldier _was_ listening to the bogle, very carefully, though he wouldn't let him know that. “And why is that, bogle?”

“Because you're one of the bad toys. Oh, I could tell the first time I laid eyes on you: expected to be the center of attention, full of your own importance; even ignored the bear's situation for all you claimed to be his friend. But there are ways to fix that,” the bogle hissed.

The tin soldier knew he had to keep the bogle agitated, force him to show his hand. The bear might have been able to charm the bogle into revealing himself, but the bear was nowhere to be seen. The soldier had to force a reaction from the bogle.

“Oh, I know about your type. _Lived_ through your type. Became what I am because of your type. So I'm putting a stop to it.”

“What are you planning, bogle?” the soldier replied. 

“Why don't you come over and see, soldier? Or are you so derelict in your duty that you're too afraid to do that?”

Too afraid? The soldier was a soldier, through and through; made of the sturdiest tin. There wasn't a scared atom in his body! “Not afraid at all, bogle; never afraid. You're just a bogeyman who can only scare humans in their dreams. What is there to be afraid of?” The soldier persisted, edging closer to the bogle.

“Oh, you should be afraid of everything, soldier,” the bogle taunted the soldier. “Take a look around. Take a very good look around.” 

The tin soldier had just reached the bogle, when the bogle shifted suddenly and charged. 

The soldier had been expecting some sort of attack, and had kept himself in readiness.

They struggled against each other, moving erratically around the table's edges. The soldier found the bogle unexpectedly strong for such an insubstantial being; but they were locked too closely together for the soldier to use his bayonet.

And they were oh so close to the edge of the table!

But the tin soldier was strong himself; and felt himself gaining the upper hand. He felt his arms slowly closing against the bogle's, bringing the creature's arms slowly down. And then the bogle surged upward in a burst of energy; which wasn't enough to break the soldier's control, but was enough to cause them to lose their balance, and they toppled over the edge of the table, headed towards the roaring fire.

The soldier briefly looked at the face of the bogle, which was now showing defiance and the slightest bit of fear. But then he thought about the bear, and how he hoped the bear was safe, and how much of a pleasure and honor it had been to work with the bear, irascible and annoying as he had been.

And then something bowled into him, pushing him to the side. 

He hit the floor and rolled, then came to a stop. Looking around, he noticed several things: he was in front of the fireplace, just clear of the fire. The bogle, however, was in the flames, silently screaming as he turned to ash. 

The soldier looked to the side. A brown fuzzy face was scowling back at him, rubbing his temple. 

“Well, if it isn't the bear,” said the tin soldier. 

“Supposed to be covering your back, soldier,” said the bear. “Don't make it so hard next time, okay?” 

The tin soldier grinned at the bear.

#

The small boy looked with pride at the nursery table, explaining things to the nurse. 

“And that's the car, which goes very fast round the neighborhood; and the ball, which bounces far too much for its own good. And here is the Jack-in-the-Box, who is good and wise.”

“I see, Robert, I see,” said the nurse very seriously; as arranging the toys was a very serious business, indeed.

“And in the front are the tin soldier and Paddington Bear, as they take care of and protect all the toys.”

“In the place of honour, I see,” replied the nurse. “I hear you found them on the floor in front of the fireplace this morning?”

“Yes; the bear had to save the soldier.”

“Paddington Bear saving an armed soldier?” The nurse sounded skeptical, though only slightly. 

“Yes, he did! Even soldiers need partners. But the bear took care of the soldier, and now they're both safe. They take care of each other.”

“Very good toys they are, then. And now, let's go, Robert, and have our milk and bread.” She took the small boy's hand and led him away, closing the door of the nursery behind them.


End file.
